Sarah Morrison’s Best Week Ever


This is 2008

Sarah Morrison recently came up with the best life plan ever. Instead of trying to do things that are fulfilling and make you happy all the time, just do the most ridiculous things possible and appreciate the random and amazing occurrences that pop up each and every day. Ever since adopting this theory, Sarah has had the best week ever. And although it appears on Myspace each week, we’re not above poaching content. We have also become aware that not everyone has Myspace and some people depend on reading it here. And those people would like a way to contact Sarah without a Myspace profile. If that is you, click here. Without further adieu, here it is, the Best Week Ever.

Best Week Ever: March 7th

“My hair is all scarved up like Winehouse. I can’t even get a brush through it.”

-I have gone completely insane. That a lie. I have gone borderline completely insane. It has been a cumulation of blogs, comments, and general internet “backlash.” I am no longer able to deal. I flip out at people left and right. I lie in my bed sleeping for days on end, at a time. Most of my “friends” are aware/victims of my insanity. Ug, “Leave Britney alone? Leave Sarah Morrison alone!”

-Crystal is sorta new to LA. She seemed in need of a boy to be set up with. I get her all wholed-up with Trevor via my internet. She didn’t buy it. He didn’t buy it. So they are both going to die alone.

-I am driving from Brooklyn to Boston at 5am. I have two trash bags full of clothes on my from seat. I stop at a a tollbooth on the Mass Pike. The toll booth dude look at me, the contents of my vehicle, and remarks, “So, are you running away from home?” I shrug and nod, “Pretty much.”

-Leah is inquiring as to my whereabouts via Blackberry Messanger. I detail my self-induced depression.” I add, “I am going to NYC. Hopefully tom will help me out.” Leah writes back, “Who the hell is Tom?” I go, “Oh, I thought “tom” was BBM short for “Tomorrow.”

-I think some people have been judging/wondering about my nervous breakdown. If you are gonna lose it, lose it now girls. “Crazy is sooooo in.”

-Katrina is asking me about my tax returns. I am all pissed off telling her that all my freelance stuff fucked up the taxes i was getting back from cinespace. I go, “It just sucks. I actually did “work” at Cinespace.” I then added, “I am going to post this on the internet and Stuart is going to ruin everything.”

-I find a teenage girl i “know” sorta bothering other teenage girls online. Peace IS made. i then add, “I would totally endorse any sort of internet ending of Brittny Moore!”

-Melissa (my BFF) is watching an episode of Salt n Pepa’s reaiity show. She has watched the majority of the season and has come to the conclusion that our relationship is very similar to the 40 something ex rapper’s lives. She tells me that i am Pepa and she is Salt. i go, “Why cause i wanted you to start a hair weave line?” Melissa goes, “It was the episode where Salts daughter was having a party and Salt was like ” let’s play word games” and Aunt Pepa was like ” I’m the fun one!” She started hoochie dancing with all the party kids. Then, at the supermarket Salt is having fun shopping, and Pep is like “hating it.”

-Some girl writes me on Myspace insisting i have my own reality show. I acknowledge that it would be good television. I inform her that i have no idea how to aquire a reality show. I go, “What if i just show up in Times Square at TRL with “I heart Carson Daly” posters?” I’ll then just act totally devastated when i find out he no longer works there. I go, “I will throw myself on the ground screaming and crying.” That will have to get me at least on TV.

-I pick up the phone at my parents’ house, one night after awkwardly holding their portable phone hoping someone would take it from me. No one did. I awkwardly answered it after no member of my family appeared. I was so confused. My aunt said, “Is this Sarah?” (I think i nodded, but was unable to actually respond.) She then asked,”How is your new job in New York?” I manage to nod, “Um ok.” I held the phone away from my head, looked at it confused, and brought it back, “I’m just so confused. I hadn’t answered a non-cellphone in years.”

-THE NEW Missbehave mag rolls into the Mass Appeal/Missbehave office Wednesday. I should be jumping up and down in excitement to read my articles. When handed the mag, I simply stare at the cover of Amber Heard and sigh, “I want to be pretty like her.” Obvi, in unison everyone tells me to shut up and starts giving me shit. I jump up and down, then remark, “Shut up, I was born in the 1980s and it was engrained in me that i should want to be a blonde blue eyed girl when i grew up.” I then added, “Bitches.”

-I am in a horrible mood the other day. Keith manages to inform me that it is my Facebook Fake Account’s Birthday. I then add, “They better send the presents to ME.”

-I have been depressed and miserable, if you have gotten this far in this blog and are unaware of this fact….you prolly can’t read. Leah and i were discussing our equally depresing plans for the day, with one another. I tell her i am going shopping. I tell her to come. She goes, “I have been drinking for the past seven days and have the worst bags under my eyes.” I shrug, “I haven’t gotten out of bed in a week.” I add, “There is a fine line between I haven’t gotten out of bed in a week and i havent slept in a week.” Leah agrees.

-I suggest Leah meets me at Bloomingdales. She tells me she is not in a “physical state” to do so. I roll my eyes and tell her, “My hair is all scarved up like Winehouse. I can’t even get a brush through it.” Leah laughed, “Ohhhh good.”

-I am at Sephora, My mom is looking for make-up. I sorta wander around trying crazy shit on, knowing no one i know is going to see me. I leave with some sassy ass red lipstick, blue eye-liner, and gold eyeshadow. I didn’t think much of it till my mom wanted to stop by the grocery store (in the town i grew up in.) Obvi, in the first two minues in the store someone yells my name. I roll over to one of my ex-boyfriend Mike’s friends and his girlfriend. I awkwardly try to explain my experimental make-up on a trip to Sephora, which neither of them seem to actually understand. I wave my hands in the air and yell, “You are totally telling people from high school i looked like a hooker at the grocery store.”

-Steve called while i was shopping today. I didn’t manage to pick up till tonight. He informed me he his laptop had been stolen. He then told me he was blogging about it. I was sorta distracted and became “fake” concerned. i was multitasking when i heard him say something about “homeboy was hiding in my hotel room in Canada?” I made him stop and told him i wanted to read the BLOG….

Best Week Ever: February 29th

“I can’t. Diplo is in your Myspace top 8 and Diplo’s mom is in mine.”

-I walk in the door of my parents’ house carrying a trash bag of clothes and a gorilla stuffed animal. My sister simply goes, “Where did you just go?” I am putting down my gorilla on the kitchen table and reply, “Oh, i went to open a new bank account.” She pauses for a second, nods her head and goes, “Oh so you needed the gorilla for that.” By the time i realized what she said, i look up and she had already left the room.

-I was trying to come up with a name for a party i am going to throw down the line. I call Melissa to ask her to help with suggestions. She asks me what i have come up with so far. I add, “I just want to call it LolCat.” I then add, “I want to call everything LolCat.”

-I always say when i I write my memoirs i am going to call it “How the internet ruined my life.” I was bored one day and started keeping track of my week, and more and more people read. It was cool to watch. With that came hate, judgement, anonymous comments, and the like. I take responsibility for it, I wrote that first blog. And, great things have happened because of all this. But, it gets hard. I have made a NEW rule that i cant read messageboards, comments on any blog i write, or Google myself. I can’t say i have been following this “rule.” BUT, I chose to do this. And the results both positive and negative are mine, to call my own. I just read almost three years back in this blog, where Dana DeArmond agrees to be my internet sponsor. I miss Dana.

-My mom has survived Breast Cancer three times. She asks me to do the “whatever annual Breast Cancer walk” in Boston some weekend coming up. I ask her the date and start pulling up my Blackberry calendar seeing if i was free. She tells me it is three days long. I had assumed it was some sort of mile or two trek along the Charles River. In disbelief, I go to the computer and pull up the website. I shake my head and go, “Oh my god, the Avon Breast Cancer walk sounds like fucking Burning Man.” I then agree to just “give money.”

-Crystal gets in some horrible car accident. Then within 24 hours loses said totaled car on the street near her house. Well, she has no recollection of where she parked it and it is no where to be found. She tells me how annoyed she is when she finds out it had been towed. I shake my head, “At least it wasn’t stolen.” She argues that she wished it had been stolen. I start to detail nightmarish account after nightmarish account of having my car stolen. I begin to add to the story, “So the second time my car was stolen…” Crystal starts laughing and puts me on speakerphone. She interrupts, “Oh my god Sarah Morrison’s car has been stolen more than once!” (speakerphone laughter ensues) I shake my head, “Obviously.”

-I am driving from New York to Boston, again. I encounter a snowstorm, again. I end up getting off the highway after 8 or so hours and get a motel somewhere outside of Hartford. I go to some nearby gas station to get chips or something to eat. The gas station dude is eyeing me as i roam around the store. A minute or so after my entrance, he actually wanders over to the aisle i am standing in and asks if he can help me find anything. I shake my head “no.” I pick up a bag of chips and then put them back and pick up another bag. He is staring at me from behind the counter and angrily yells, “Can i help you with something?” I put whatever is in my hand back down. I have said it before in instances like this, with other people. This time completely alone in a LAMB coat, some cute-ass dress, and pair of three hundred dollar boots, i manage to announce, “I swear to god when i am anywhere besides New York or LA people think i am homeless.” I slam the door, go back to my motel and opt for the less judgmental vending machines.

-Wes DJs some party in Boston, Saturday night. Some sorta-cute boy starts talking to me at the bar. He works at Louis Vuitton , which i can’t decide if it is lame or not. He then points to the DJ booth and tells me how much he loves Diplo. He adds, “Like he is in my Myspace Top 8.” I start to laugh and tell him i have to go…to the bathroom. He seems bummed out. I add, “I can’t. Diplo is in your Myspace top 8 and Diplo’s mom is in mine.”

-A photographer comes over and starts taking my photo. Wes is nearby and the photographer asks him to stop so he can take his photo next. The photographer goes, “Sarah Morrison do you know Diplo?” I pose, then shake my head, “no.” He then turns to take Wes’ picture. He says to him, “Diplo you don’t know Sarah Morrison.” Wes goes, “Sarah is lying. We used to be engaged.” I roll my eyes and walk away.

-We are at the after party. I am sort of intoxicated. I am sitting on some couch talking to Spanky. Wes comes over. He leans over to me and loudly “asks,” “Hey, want to come back to my hotel room and have sex later.” Spanky looks at me so confused, not sure if he should kill homeboy or not. Wes smirks and walks away. Spanky is waiting for my reaction, to determine his next move. I start to explain, then stop for a second, trying to figure out where to start. I go, “That’s Diplo.” Spanky sorta pretended this explanation did the situation justice, I then added, “We know each other.” Spanky relieved, awkwardly nodded. I attempted the same.

-I just asked Gina how much the rent is for the room in her apartment in Hollywood. I don’t know. I am homesick.

Best Week Ever: February 8th

“There is a huge difference in being the pregnant girl from that Britney Spears movie and giving Vincent Gallo actual head on camera.”


-I start whining about boys to Gina on Ichat, unaware if she is actually listening or not. I type dramatic line, after more dramatic line. She replies, “Intervention.” I start planning my own intervention, as Gina tries to explain she is just watching the show on A&E. I reply, “I am going to walk into some “room,” with all of you sitting there. The doctor will ask everyone what my problem actually is. In unison, you guys will all be like “everything.” You will say “DJs.” My mom will say “burritos.” Someone will totally say “the internet.” Have Cory at cinespace come and say something too. Then put me on a plane.”

-I am half listening to Anthony and typing away on my phone. I hear him inform me that I smell “like Blackberry.” I become startled enough to stop typing and completely put my phone down. He explains that it’s my lipgloss, not my phone he is referring to. I pick my phone back up, confused as to why I didn’t assume that.

-I am unable to be in one place at the same time every week. So I watch TV shows months later like every episode in the course of a week. This week I watched Gossip Girl. Through the entire 13 hours, all I could think about was how bad I wanted to make out with Chuck. I kept telling myself it was “cool.” These teenage actors are always 35. Um he is barely 20. I am officially creepy.

-I opt to move my belongings from my parents’ basement in Boston to my new apt in New York, during the Superbowl. My mom not a football fan of any sort, thinks I should stay through the game, and leave in the morning. My dad is helping me put things in my truck, during half time. My mom finally goes, “You are really going to drive from Boston to New York, while these two teams …” My dad interrupts, “Sure she is. There will be no traffic and every cop will be sitting in a bar watching this.”

-The last time the Patriots won the Superbowl, my neighbors drunkenly attempted to tip over every parked car on my street, together as “one.” The night the Red Sox won the World Series I listened to furniture being thrown out windows and gunshots. You are sort of forced into the drunk insanity of it all, growing up here. I am more than over it. I chose to drive from Boston to New York, Sunday night during the Superbowl. I left at half time. I DID listen to it on the radio. I had to pull my truck over somewhere around that “2-minute-mark” because I kept losing reception. I caught myself shaking my head feeling stupid for leaving. I sat their antsy. It was like I was almost an actual sports fan. Then it was over. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. I laughed, starting the car back up glad I wasn’t in Boston.

-I walk out of the door of the apartment I am subletting in Brooklyn. I hear “Sarah Morrison” being beckoned from a white kidnapping-esque van. It’s Mike Hart. Mike Hart and I lived in the dorms together 100 years ago in The Middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire. I run into him every couple of years in some sort of comparable weird-made-up-sounding-circumstance. We learn that we are living on the same street, like three doors down. We aren’t able to make any other conversation besides just repeating this and laughing. I finally walk away waving, “Of course we do!”

-World famous DJ Steve Aoki comes to meet me one night for drinks after DJing with or for come combination of Madonna and Rihanna. I surprise even myself by being excited to see him. He grabs me, hugs me, spins me around, and goes, “Is Diplo gonna beat me up? I rolled my eyes, “Sadly enough, no.”

-I am not even going to justify why I was talking about Taryn Manning to Leah on the phone last night. I just “was.” Leah was like, “That girl is sort of like Chloe Sevigny. She doesn’t really do much and people know who she is.” I love Chloe. I disagree, “There is a huge difference in being the pregnant girl from that Britney Spears movie and giving Vincent Gallo actual head on camera.”

Best Week Ever: February 1st

“Don’t fuck with Sarah Morrison! XOXO Gossip Girl.”

-I am having a really low self-esteem week. I am watching that movie Flakes with Zooey DeChanel. I suddenly sit up and announce, “One time Wes’ mom told me I looked like her!” My mom was sort of walking by. She stopped, tilted her head as she looked at the screen, and then walked away without saying a thing.

-I am very independent, always have been. Over time, I have developed some sort of weird dependence on Trevor. I catch myself asking him questions that with less than 30 seconds of thought, I could answer myself. I ask him for emails, phone numbers, how to spell things. I didn’t realize I did it, until one day Trevor disappeared i.e. was on a plane. He steps off the plane and addresses every question I had sent. I get phone number after email after spelling after zip code. I finally realized and said to him, “I depend on you way too much.” I added, “With less than five minutes of effort I can solve all of these problems on my own.” I paused for a minute and realized, “Trevor, you are my Google.”

-I have a “little incident,” last night. This boy I like starts dating some Mcdonalds’ employee or Coffee Bean Barista or something similar. I get a *little upset.* I detail the ridiculous story today to a boy i know today, via Ichat. His name is Rory. I know him from my formative (heavy drinking) days in Boston. I detail last nights drama. I go, “I could see he was typing a message to me, right then. I didn’t want to hear anymore of what he had to say. So, I just deleted him off Blackberry Messenger. Rory paused for a second, then tried to make me feel a little better, by distracting me. He recalled a story from “the 1990s.” I walk/barge in on him and some girl, yelling. I don’t really want to hear it and tried to stop him. I admit, “I used to drink a lot back then.” Rory then adds/suggests, “You stormed into my apartment. My roommate tried to keep you from coming in.” He acknowledges, while at the time not so thrilled with my emotional rampage, he still remembers it. He says, “So, YOU deleted him off Blackberry Messenger, Sarah?” I nodded. He added, “I think you need to start drinking a little bit more.”

-Our conversation continues. I attempt to solidify the drama in being deleted off of Blackberry Messenger, by me. Rory finds it all sort of funny. I am trying my best to be borderline serious in the explanation of my actions. Annoyed, i just finally say, “I am Sarah Fucking Morrison!” Rory quickly responds, “Don’t fuck with Sarah Morrison! XOXO Gossip Girl.”

-Trevor throws his two cents in regarding the situation (above) this morning. I can tell he is not so thrilled with some of the things I managed to say before the “deletion.” Knowing how I get, he is treading very lightly on the idea of telling me I was even sort of wrong. I shrug, “So, he knows I am just like every other girl.” I add, “See, I can be crazy too!” Trevor manages to affirm, “Sarah, you are not crazy. MIA is crazy. ”

-I make a last inquiry to Lloyd, regarding SXSW. He still doesn’t want to go, unless I/someone pays for it. He adds, “You must be able to find someone who will pay for my flight.” Annoyed, I ignore him. He adds, “I will tell people I am Pase Rock!”

-I have been watching Celebrity Rehab on VH1. My favorite part of the whole thing is the girl from Family Matters, addicted to weed. Crazy heroin addicts threaten to kill one another and throw up on themselves mid-sentence. If you look carefully enough, you can see Family Matters girl sort of walking by confused in the background. Television no longer exists as we know it. Our only hope for thoughtless entertainment is reality television. There will be no more 24 or Damages or Nip/Tuck. All we can do is pray to the Viacom gods for “Celebrity Weed Rehab.”

-I talk to Cory, (favorite boss ever/Cinespace manager) this week regarding a friend of mine. Cory agrees to meet with Greg. He gives me a time and date to relay on. Sort of distracted, I call Greg. I give him the entire rundown from staffing issues, to upcoming events, to what time on Thursday afternoon I wanted him at Cinespace. The whole rant must have lasted a minute and a half, at least. I finished my speech, took a deep breath, and waited for Greg to respond. He paused for a second. Trying not to laugh he said, “Sarah, you called the wrong Greg.” I then had to call the right Greg, rinse and repeat.

-I am doing “who knows what” on my computer, as my sister watches television in the same room. I pull my headphones off and ask, “Is pedophile spelled with a “f” or a “ph.” She turns around VERY quickly. Until then, she seemed unaware of my presence at all. The look on her face makes me feel sort of awkward. I just fake smiled and put my headphones back on. I waved to her, and announced, “Forgot it, I’ll figure it out!”

-I was supposed to move to New York today. It is hailing out. So, I will instead, move to New York tomorrow. Fortunately for my parents, they get to spend the evening with me. I am in the kitchen, earlier tonight. I can feel my mother staring at me. Finally, I turn around to find out what exactly she wants. She is concerned about my appearance. I inform/remind her that I am not going anywhere, due to the hailing going on outside. She looks at me and says, “Sarah you are wearing a t-shirt, a pair of black tights, and pink High tops.” I swear to her that she will be the only person affected by all this. She continues on and on. I finally just walk away from her. I say nothing. I head up stairs, find a pair of American Apparel Hooters shorts, and return with them over my tights. I dramatically storm past my mother. She looks at me, smiles, and nods like she “won.”

Best Week Ever: January 25th

“See, your sister Sarah feels like she did a bunch of coke and its 10am.”

-Lloyd tells me he is glad I came to the party, Sunday night. He adds that he doesn’t want to hear any more reports of people seeing me at Annex again. I add, “I met the girl that draws those pictures of me and Gina on Myspace, in the bathroom line at Annex. Lloyd unsure of which issue with my last statement to address, nods, “I’m sure you did.”

-Donavon informs me he just brought me fiancé’s album at Target. Legitimately confused, I ask, “Marky Mark’s?” He replies, “Steve Aoki’s.”

-Kelly calls to set me up with a photo shoot, this week. I add, “Tell them I’ve gained a bunch of weight.” Kelly informs me I have not gained “a bunch of weight.” I roll my eyes. She asks, “Well, you are still pretty, right?” I add, “Um, duh.”

-Gina doesn’t return my text messages for 24 hours. I obviously opt to tell her I deleted her from my Myspace Top 8. She gets all-defensive about her broken phone and love for me. I roll my eyes, “You are just saying that cause you looked at my page and got all sad when you saw I replaced you with Tom.” She then adds, “I can’t believe you. I just moved you up on my Top 8 and you deleted me?” I finally call us both out, “I didn’t take you off my Top 8, and you didn’t really look.”

-I have found myself placing interns lately. I have had one in Philly and two in LA in need of internships. I was discussing the phenomenon with Keith, referring to myself as an intern pimp.

-I write to Russ on Blackberry Messenger in need of something ridiculous and random that only he could assist with. He gave me the information I needed. He then replied, “Your weird BBMs make me remember you are still alive.” I replied, “Aw thanks.”

-I return home with a copy of Steve Aoki’s CD. I pull it out of the Target bag and announce, “I am making a vow that something of mine will be on sale at Target by this time next year.”

-My dad remarks about how my sister makes coffee way too strong. I take my headphones off, to agree. I go, “My heart is like fucking pounding. I feel like I just did a bunch of coke.” My dad points at me, then at my sister, and announces, “See, your sister Sarah feels like she did a bunch of coke and its 10am.”

-Adam “DJ AM” Goldstein adds me on Facebook, this week. I instantly get excited, accept his request, and changed my relationship status to engaged to him. This engagement did not last as long as last week’s engagement to Steve Aoki. And while Steve found the whole thing funny, I feel like Adam may not have.

-Jared texts me asking if I am going to “that party at Studio B on Feb 1st.” I inform him it sounds far away, I may go, and he should ask me when it gets closer. He tells me its some thing with Naeem and Busy P. I nod agreeing it sounds like somewhere I will probably appear. He goes, “Let’s get drunk together that night.” I reply, “Noted, drunk with Jared in February in Brooklyn.”

-I am going to be occasionally blogging on the iheartcomix blog as well as the other 80 places I frequent. This week’s installment is “Sarah Morrison’s Top 10 DJs of 2007 It is pretty funny. I recommend it.

Best Week Ever: January 18th and prior

“I am going to Alaska like in the movie Into the Wild. Instead of alone with a rifle, I am taking Henry Rollins, Chase Lisbon, and a bunch of weed.”

-Donavon inquires how my stay in Boston is going. I nod calmly and reply, “I want to jump out the bathroom window upstairs at my parents house. There’s like three feet of snow on the ground. So, I am afraid that might cushion my fall.”

-I find some feature on Facebook where I can get engaged and simply chose whom on my list of friends I would like to be engaged to. I instinctively select Steve Aoki. It then informs me a message will be sent to Steve to “confirm the engagement.” I felt defeated figuring he won’t approve it, and instead “yell at me” on BBM. For reasons unknown and unquestioned, I woke up engaged to Steve Aoki on Facebook. While some of the comments I received regarding said engagement were kind of funny, those that Steve received were priceless. My personal favorite was, “Congrats you’re engaged to one of my favorite 20-somethings in all of the United States of America!”

-I am beginning to address my pile of outerwear under the DJ booth last night. I have maybe gotten one arm into sweatshirt number two, when Wes grabs my Blackberry off the floor and starts yelling trying to find “it’s owner, while standing inches from me. He begins scrolling through it mumbling names in the phonebook he knows. He then announces, “They know Naeem!” Dissapointed in the how the investigation is going, I just lean over and grab it out of his hand. He mumbles something about not leaving my phone on the ground, and wanders off.

-Little Rye Rye plays last night. I love her. Shit’s slowing down, and so I head over to say hi. I tell her that I want to adopt her. She doesn’t seem at thrilled, as I had hoped.

-Stretch Armstrong and I are the only “out of the closet readers” of Lloyd’s blog. Nonchalantly Lloyd throws this out, “(DJ) AM came up to me, out one night and told me he liked my blog.” I don’t take Adam for much of a reader and try to shoot the whole thing down. Lloyd swears Adam reads blogs all day, everyday. Sort of concerned i ask, “Shit, does that mean he reads mine too?” Lloyd nods, rolling his eyes. “Maybe that’s why he deleted me on Blackberry Messenger,” I shrugged.

-Lloyd manages to inquire, “So how is that thing with you being Gina’s manager going?” I nodded and ensured him it was going good. He added, “So how long did you guys actually manage to keep that going for?” Trying not to laugh I managed, “Businesswise, Gina and I were headed in two very different directions.”

-Thrilled at the fact Naima is back in NYC, I beg her to let me stay in the dorms with her at NYU. She seems just as excited and promises popcorn, hair braiding, and mayhem. Naima fails miserably. She falls asleep, leaving me devastated. Lloyd and Pase try to console me over breakfast, at 5am. Truthfully, neither of them have any idea why I wanted to stay in the dorms at all. They are making that very clear to me. Not entirely sure myself, I simply announce, “I am 28 years old. My time for it being even sort-of-ok to stay in the dorms is quickly coming to an end.”

-Lloyd is experiencing my lack of enthusiasm/optimism when it comes to my horrific apartment search. He throws out happy images of babies, cute little animals, and free drugs. I seriously stop him and go, “I just don’t want to have to go back to LA.” I add, “My fear is not never finding an apartment in New York, or being unable to rent my apartment in Philly. It is not homelessness or worrying I will have to move in with my parents for the rest of eternity.” I continue, “I am afraid I will be forced to move back into my old apartment in Hollywood and work at Cinespace.”

-I am on the train this afternoon. I am seated next to two-college freshman returning to school, after winter break. They are discussing things like their excitement to see the campus again and their inability to sleep past 8 am, while home at their parents’ house. My phone rings sometime during this, with Leah inquiring about a text message I had sent her earlier. I just start crying and muttering about a boy who left with some ugly waitress the evening prior. I throw in something about Naeem and how I am going to have a nervous breakdown. Leah is trying not to laugh, while sort of suggesting that I calm down for my own sake, and that of the train’s passengers. Before hanging up, i add, “I haven’t slept yet.” I notice the college freshmen sort of frozen, not sure whether they should continue debating their favorite campus building’s architecture, or not. I start to get up. I apologize quietly, then step over them both. I head to the snack car and return with two drinks.

-I am upset last night/today after a boy I like disappoints me. Sadness, logically grows into anger and then to sort of humor-filled irrationality. After Steve Aoki, and later Naeem have no idea what to say to me at all, Keith becomes my target. Due to my not-so-logical state, Keith does not recommend me “taking any sort of action,” in the foreseeable future. I roll my eyes. Unphased, I add, “This is like the part in American Beauty where Kevin Spacey goes crazy, just remove the teenage sex and add “I haven’t slept yet.”

-I have found the solution to my latest unfavorable life assessment. I am going to Alaska like in the movie Into the Wild. Instead of alone with a rifle, I am taking Henry Rollins, Chase Lisbon, and a bunch of weed.

Best Week Ever: January 18th and prior

“I have read about how horrible I am, how much worse I am in person, an entire three paragraphs by some 16 year old about how bad she felt for me and how worried she was I would still be doing what I am doing at 30, and most recently Cisco Adler’s desire to have hot hate sex with me.”

-I have gained ten pounds. Downside, I can’t get into my jeans. Upside, I have enough boob to buy a bra. I wander around Victoria’s Secret long enough to find some simple black bra with no padding, grab it, and begin to head to the register. Some sale associate stops me and asks me if I need help or would like to try said undergarment on. I shrug, ” I don’t own a bra so whatever this is, I am sure it will work.”

-A boy I know is telling me he really likes a lady friend of mine. He is looking for suggestions on what he should do. I suggest he tell her. At least, then he would know either way. Supportively I add, “One time I texted Wes telling him I liked him.” The boy wanted to know what happened. I shrugged, “He wrote something back about me wanting him to have gay sex with Steve Aoki.” The boy seemed empathetic, “I am sorry, Sarah.”

-I go outside to smoke a cigarette. I return inside and my sister asks me how I smoke cigarettes so fast. I pause for a second to think about it, and then announce, “I just smoke the cigarette really fast.” She looked at me sort of blankly and simply nodded.

-Someone asks me about Nicky. I, in turn inform them I am not speaking to Nicky anymore. I add, “I.E. I simply respond to him with really bitchy text messages.”

-I finally get a chance to meet up with Anthony at his Bopnique Musique studio/lair of music brilliance. I bring my sister along. The two of us are sort of wandering around exploring all of Anthony music gadgets and gizmos, speechless in amazement. We pause to stare at his wall of albums he has worked on. They range from Duran Duran to the Dawson’s Creek Soundtrack. Anthony looks at my sister and announces, “I was more excited to meet Sarah Morrison than I was Elton john. But don’t tell Elton, I said that.”

-I call Naima to figure out if she is back from LA yet. She informs me she will not return to New York until late January. She then asks, “Where are you going to be on January 18th?” I quickly respond, “Sitting outside your dorm at NYU waiting for you.”

-Naima asks me if I still talk to Dora. I tell Naima, the last time I saw Dora was at some sort of afternoon pool party at her parents’ house in the valley, one weekend they were away. I added, “It was weird. That kid from the Transformer’s movie was there. He pulled this machete out of his backpack and started swinging it around doing Karate moves alone in the yard.” Naima wanted to know what Dora’s reaction to that scenario was. I go, “She was sort of ok with it.” She just said, “Sarah, he is training for the new Indiana Jones movie.” Naima laughed, “Like that makes it ok?” I nodded, “Exactly.”

-Nikki starts telling me she saw them filming the Sex and the City movie on her way to work. I tell her to shut up because I don’t want to hear anything about the movie. She continues, “They were in Duane Reade! I just ruined the whole movie! There’s a scene where Carrie goes to the drug store.” I roll my eyes, “You still just made me sad.”

-I am telling DJ extraordinaire Lloydski of my brilliant find of old Marky Mark tracks. I agree to go Lloyd’s Big Fun party Sunday night (If you are in the Nyc area I recommend you attend as well. I hear Diplo may make an appearance.) Lloyd sort of ignores my Marky Mark references. He then adds, “Ok Sarah, you are on the list as “girl with my Funky Bunch records.”

-I am in the process of organizing my sort of unorganized last minute SXSW party. Gina and I are discussing it via Ichat one evening. I have all the DJs lined up. I tell Gina I want to book one act. She suggests I ask Uffie and gives me Anna’s screen name. I simply type, “Hi, Gina gave my your screen name. I am totally obsessed with you and want to marry you and have you rap your vows to me!” I sent this to Gina as well. I was instructed by Gina to inform Anna it was me “[email protected]” I did pause a little, and eventually managed to type, “It’s Sarah Morrison.” Anna thought it was funny and informed she was ready to “kill Gina.” I smiled, cause I won.

-I am going over a list of possible acts to book for this SXSW event. I get to “Spank rock.” I announce, “No. Negotiating with Naeem is going to be like trying to do that drunk interview with Franki Chan at CMJ.”

-My brand new Macbook crashes. (Thank you Aviron Ron P for your assistance in this matter, and every other computer matter I have burdened you with over the years.) My hard drive is not even visible to the Genius Bar geniuses. They take off with my computer for a while. An enthusiastic staff member returns fifteen minutes later. He is trying to get me excited about the fact that I may have lost everything on my computer, but Apple is giving me a brand new laptop. I stare sort of blankly at the three technicians hoping for me to smile and state, “Sorry about my lack of excitement. My laptop is 2 weeks old. If this had been five years down the road I would totally be hugging all you guys.”

-One of my favorite bloggers Rose of features me as their girl of the week. Like clockwork the “Anonymous” haters post their nasty comments, which Rose deleted and I don’t care to ever read. I was relaying the story to someone. In my annoyance with people who get all bitchy, hiding behind their computer screens, I go, “I have read about how horrible I am, how much worse I am in person, an entire three paragraphs by some 16 year old about how bad she felt for me and how worried she was I would still be doing what I am doing at 30, and most recently Cisco Adler’s desire to have hot hate sex with me.” I shrug, “Pussys.”

Best Week Ever: January 4th and a little December

“Great, now something comes up when you Google my name and Cisco Adler.”

-I apologize for not updating this for a month. I also apologize that what you are about to read is not that funny. I have been sort of dealing with the big stuff in life lately. I forgot to pay attention to the little stuff.

-My sister receives some sort of new exciting Ipod for Christmas. She plugs it into her computer and is in awe of its capabilities. She announces, “It upload photos too. I wish I had more photos.” I remark, “Plug it into my computer. You will instantly have 500 some odd Cobrasnake photos of me to enjoy!”

-I get a new Macbook. I instantly fall in love with Video Chat. I alert Trevor to the news via one of our boring twelve some odd options for communicating with one another, Blackberry messenger. Trevor manages to remark, “Now we will never ever be apart!”

-At the dinner table Christmas evening, my aunt manages to ask, “Sarah, so what do you plan on doing after you are done being famous on the internet?”

-Greg is the first to alert me of Spankrock’s Loose video’s internet presence. He goes, “It is definitely xxx, but then again the only two people I have met off Myspace and enjoy talking to are Sarah Morrison and Dana DeArmond. So I am ok with Noodz.”

-Donavon starts texting me. I reply, “Hold on, I am forcing my dad to watch the Spankrock Loose video.” Donavon simply typed back, “He must be so proud.”

-Brooke and I go to see Juno. There is a preview for some dumb new romantic comedy with Katherine Heigel. The screen reads, “From a screenwriter of the Devil Wears Prada.” I roll my eyes and rephrase, “From a reader of the Devil Wears Prada!”

-My brother is supposed to go to the doctors the day after Christmas. He stumbles downstairs clothed, ready to go. My dad asks him to go upstairs and shower, for the doctor’s benefit. I add, “Go upstairs and wash your balls, Sam.”

-I receive a Myspace message from a girl in New Zealand telling me she had gone to see Steve Aoki DJ the previous evening in her homeland. She tells me, “The whole night I just wanted to go up to him and say, “I like Sarah Morrison so much better than you.” I told her I wish she had.

-I am telling Franki Chan that my goal for next week is to get an Adderol prescription. I am convinced it will make me more productive. He agrees. I then add, “Adderol is like coffee laced with happiness.”

-I am lurking on the Hollertronix message board, detailing my intense fear of it and its inhabitants to Gina. Fearless, Gina gets an account and posts something over there. I am in complete shock. I go, “The Hollertronix board is the only thing on the internet I am afraid of.”

-I am making coffee in my parents’ kitchen one morning. My laptop is playing music and beeping with Ichat messages. I am talking to Donavon on speakerphone. My dad walks by and inquires, “It there ever a point in your day were everything isn’t loud?” I shrug, shake my head, and remark, “I don’t think so.”

-I offer Wes and the Mad Decent groupies a 16 year old girl in Philly who had wanted to intern for me. I instruct him to send me a legitimate list of things he will have her do. I reiterate 6890293 times that she is a 16 year old girl and they need to remember that when she is there. I receive a list that goes something like this; count cds, go to record shops with one sheets, help in the wherehouse, count cds, get food, and BJs if she is cute.” Knowing he is trying to upset me, I reply, “Hand jobs until she is out of high school, k thanks.”

-When I have brilliant insights or time on my hands I still post some of my ramblings on Trevor’s blog I go to the site one day this week. I lose my train of thought when I encounter by a bunch of blogs by Cisco Adler. I forget entirely what I planned to write in the first place. I simply type, “Great, now something comes up when you Google my name and Cisco Adler.”

-I have never deleted anyone off Blackberry Messenger. It is not like people can Google enough weird tags and come up with my Blackberry pin. While my list may not be any sort f reflection of my BFFS, I know everyone on it. Whether I talk to them everyday, the presence of their name and constant update on were they are every single day does not seem to bother me. I notice this week that Adam “DJ AM” deleted me off BBM. It pissed me off. I am not entirely sure why, but it did. I was out with my mom when he was trying to apologize and re-add me. I simply stopped, turned to my mom, and said, “This whole thing just makes me want to post a blog about how he used to try to have Cybersex with me.” She paused for a second, looked at me blankly, and then continued walking.